John Mellencamp has revitalized his career in recent years by teaming up with
T Bone Burnett, a producer who prefers to document performances with grime
intact rather than doctor them up into shiny new toys for radio programmers.
After collaborating on the 2008 release “Life Death Love and Freedom,”
Mellencamp and Burnett take that no-frills approach to an extreme on “No Better
Than This” (Rounder), the latest album in a career that spans 35 years and 40
million domestic record sales. Whatever you think of Mellencamp, this is the
kind of record that will compel a re-evaluation, an out-of-leftfield shot that
mostly works because of its modesty, shagginess and humor – qualities not
normally associated with the singer in the past.

The album was recorded in three historically resonant locations: the First
African Baptist Church in Savannah, Ga., a sanctuary for runaway slaves before
emancipation; Sun Studios in Memphis, one of the birthplaces of rock ‘n’ roll;
and the Gunter Hotel in San Antonio, where blues legend Robert Johnson recorded.

Burnett set up a single microphone and a vintage reel-to-reel recorder in each
of these rooms to capture Mellencamp and his band as they performed 13 original
songs drawing on blues, folk, gospel and rockabilly. The mono recordings may
initially sound like dusty transmissions from another planet to ears attuned to
highly compressed modern productions, which create an unnatural relationship
between voice and instruments. On “No Better Than This,” Mellencamp’s nicotine
rasp sits inside a cocoon of stringed instruments and percussion; the sound
field is a democracy of instruments, the mix a warm blend of complementary
sounds that is a step away from a spontaneous field recording.

Mellencamp’s songs generally avoid the type of ponderous big statements that can
undercut his music in favor of blues- and folk-based stories populated with
devils, death, mayhem, but also a touch of mirth. Mortality underlines
everything, but the music brims with life: loose, a bit ramshackle, as if
refusing to take itself too seriously. The lack of conventional production
gimmicks telescopes the songs and the performances: Miriam Sturm’s violin flirts
with mischief and anxiety on “Right Behind Me”; “No Better Than This” channels
the chugging clickety-clack of a vintage Johnny Cash single; “Thinking About
You” is one of those little charmers about everyday life that could’ve sprung
from John Prine’s imagination; and the epic narrative “Easter Eve” manages to
sound both rambunctious and easygoing. No wonder the album winds down with
barely audible chuckle.